"How are you feeling? Any better?" Danish asked as he walked down the apartment hallway.
"Mm-hm ...." Amora murmured listlessly. "Go away. You can sleep at a hotel or at your friend's house."
"I can't."
"Danish! Get it through your head—you can't sleep in the room Mom's occupying or in the living room, let alone in my room."
"I'm not leaving. I already paid the rent for the room in full for the next month."
"I'll give your money back."
"We argue every second, every minute. Come on, Amor, don't break the agreement we made just because your mom is here."
"You're so stubborn!" Amora ground her teeth. "A girl shouldn't be in the same room as a man."
"I'll sleep on the floor. I swear, I won't try anything." Danish raised his index and middle fingers in a V.
"Oh, God, why did I have to meet a man like you?"
"Why do you think? Coincidence? Or fate?"
"Bad luck, maybe."
Danish chuckled as he followed Amora toward the room at the very end of the hall. He could have stayed at Randy's house or at a hotel, just as Amora had suggested. But Danish couldn't do that. He couldn't bring himself to leave Amora alone. It seemed that arguing with Danish was far better than having Amora be alone.
Loneliness would hurt Amora, and it was entirely possible the girl might hurt herself again. Wait! Since when had Danish cared this much about a girl? Hmm, maybe because they both had painful pasts. When you've met someone who's been through the same things you have, shouldn't you strengthen each other?
"We'll establish a boundary," Amora said when they reached the room. "Don't argue. I'm tired of fighting with you."
"Fine by me."
Amora pulled out a thick blanket and spread it across the floor beside the bed. "The edge of this blanket is your boundary. If you cross it by even a single centimeter, I'll kick you out."
"Argh ... I hope your mom leaves soon. And remember, I don't want anything like this happening again tomorrow. I don't want to hide from someone else staying here. The room next door is still mine." Danish sat down on the spread-out blanket. A pillow flew toward him and landed squarely in his face.
"Okay, fine! Now go to sleep, and stop arguing with me."
Amora took another blanket from the closet, climbed onto the bed, and pulled it up to cover her entire body. Silence. The talkative girl disappeared beneath the blanket and stopped chattering. Unfortunately, it only lasted a few minutes. At the five-minute mark, Amora poked her head out.
"Can't sleep?" Danish asked.
"How can I sleep with a man in my room?"
"Even if I weren't sleeping here, I'm sure you still wouldn't be able to close your eyes. Be grateful, Amor. You aren't alone tonight."
"You think you know everything."
"My instincts are trained to read the feelings of someone who's hurting. I've been hurt too, just like you. If you need someone to talk to, I'm ready to listen."
"I'd be happier if we both just stayed quiet." Amora threw off the blanket and climbed out of bed, then shuffled toward the desk in the corner of the room.
The wooden desk was rectangular. A stack of novels sat on the left side, while the right held another stack of novels and several sheets of scribbled-on paper. A spotlight shone brightly over the desk when Amora flipped the switch. The girl looked engrossed as she turned on her MacBook.
"That MacBook is the only friend you have," Danish guessed.
"There you go, acting like you know everything again."
"You don't have any close friends, do you?"
"I don't think that matters. Friends are often two-faced. They stab you in the back."
Danish rose from the blanket and approached Amora's desk. "We can't live alone, Amor. Sometimes we need friends to share our happiness and sadness with. If you carry your wounds alone, you'll be lonely."
"You don't know what it's like when everyone looks down on you because you come from a broken home."
"How am I any different? A child born from a mistake. They call me a bastard." Danish touched the framed photo hanging on the wall. "But out of a thousand people who hate us, there will be one person who accepts us as we are. A true friend."
"I don't know. I haven't found one yet."
"It's not that you haven't found one, Amor. You just shut yourself away." Danish's gaze fixed on a close-up photo of a young, curly-haired man. "Is the man in this photo your boyfriend?"
"Hmm ... maybe he's one of the thousand you mentioned."
"Do you love him?"
"We love each other."
"Only idiots believe in love." Danish laughed mockingly. He took a cigarette from his pants pocket. "I'm going to smoke on the balcony."
"Watch the room next door. Don't let Mom see you."
There was no answer. Danish's broad-shouldered body had already slipped behind the balcony door. Amora let out a harsh sigh. The MacBook screen had been glowing for a while. But Amora remained motionless in her seat. Her fingers felt stiff, and she had no idea what to write. Her thoughts wandered.
At last, Amora turned to the side. The silhouette of the tall, broad-shouldered man was clearly visible behind the glass curtain wall. With a masculine air, he leaned against the balcony railing. A cigarette was tucked between two fingers. Every so often, he drew in the nicotine-laced smoke, poisoning his lungs.
Amora let out another harsh sigh. She didn't know whether she should be happy about Danish's presence or hate it instead. The man had two opposing sides. Now and then, Danish's wild side emerged and made all kinds of threats against Amora. Yet on the other hand, Amora felt Danish's presence was like that of an angel. Yeah, Danish with his smugly wise words.